


The Large Stone

by Keitmeg



Series: Zosan Package [11]
Category: One Piece
Genre: 13th Century CE, Action/Adventure, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Injury Recovery, Love/Hate, M/M, Master/Slave, Top Roronoa Zoro, Warriors and Soldiers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 03:48:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15404292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keitmeg/pseuds/Keitmeg
Summary: A historical adventure story set in the late 12th century during the reign of the Mongole. After the disappearance of his father, along with the empire's Large Stone, Sanji, accompanied by his slave (Zoro), makes a dangerous journey to the Asian lands to retrieve the emblem and, in doing so, to restore his father's tarnished honor. Something more than friendship is beginning to bloom and Sanji wonders if he should coax or smother the flames.





	The Large Stone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PassiveDoor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PassiveDoor/gifts).



> Inspired by The Eagle of the Ninth.

 In early 12th century, an army of over a thousand marched into the unconquered territory of the east. They were never seen again. 

 All of the soldiers vanished, along with the treasured standard-The Large Stone.

 

 

Conquering a land always comes at a cost, and this time, the cost was almost losing his leg.

Sanji Vinsmoke, sole commander of his army, son of a prominent and legendary commander, had been appointed at the northern to compel the locals and take their land, and had been so close –the victory just at his reach, and yet still far away; he had not expected a rebellion from those villagers, with hunting axes and tree boles in hands, they weren’t even warriors. He’d belittled them a little too much and had come very close to paying dearly for that.

Prior to the upheaval, Commander Vinsmoke had sent out a patrol for food to restock their supplies, and now, he was looking down from his fortress at the locals and how they beheaded one of the soldiers from the patrol, while the others waited their turn. Unable to watch anymore, he’d put on his helmet and, against his vice’s advice not to, had assembled his small army and set out to take back those men.

It’d gone bloody because, after managing to save a few of his men, more locals came out of the tree lines riding scythed chariots, and had almost cut down the commander’s leg had it not been for his agility.

 

**[Now]**

Sanji awakes from his dreams of his missing father with a moan, his dry lips smack for some moisture. Then a cup is nudged against his mouth, and he drinks the sour tasting water.

“It’s medicine.”

“Where” –he slides his bleary eyes to the source of the sound, finding a gray-haired, peaceful looking man sitting at his bedside– “Where am I? What happened to my men?”

“I’m glad you’re finally awake.” He tells him, “Was afraid your fort surgeon couldn’t save you.”

“My men…” Sanji attempts to sit up and another pair of arms help him up and tuck pillows behind his back.

“A few were wounded, but saved, thanks to your efforts.” The old man looks up at his servant and dismisses him, now looking at the blond. “I am called Josquin,” he says, “Josquin Vinsmoke, your uncle.”

 

He is perched on a large bench in the hall, looking through satin drapes at the bustle of the world shaded in the sun, when his uncle comes in, accompanied by the vice-commander. They stand by his bench but he remains seated, his wounded leg not allowing him to move much.

“Sir,” he smiles down at him, “The men have been asking after you…”

“And how are they?” demands Sanji.

“Anxious to know how their commander fares.”

The two share a knowing smile, as though both are happy the soldiers are as impatient about his welfare as them.

“You have some news for my nephew?” Josquin chimes in.

The vice-commander nods, “Yes, sorry.” He stands up properly, “We have received word from the capital: For holding the fort under extreme duress, you’ve been awarded the golden medal. From today, their standard will carry its first wreath.”

A joyous happiness erupts inside Sanji, “Tell the men, I could not be more proud.”

 

The man’s face falls, “And that's not all, sir. They've awarded you, a military armillaire. For conspicuous gallantry.” He hands him the medal and adds “And an honorable discharge, Because of your wounds.”

 

Sanji eyes the citation that reads ‘Honour and faithfulness’.

  
“May I be the first to offer my congratulations?” he looks at him with genuine respect.

 

Sanji smiles weakly, “It was good of you to come so far.” 

The man nods. “Sir.” 

“Thank you.” 

The vice-commander takes that as his cue and salutes him before vacating the room, followed by Sanji’s uncle. Just as the doors to Sanji’s chamber close, they hear the man inside let out a scream of rage that makes their blood run cold. Josquin’s servant rushes to the doors, but his master stops him.  

“Leave him.” He commands, sadness befalling him, “There's no medicine for that.”  

That night, Sanji sleeps in and out of a high fever and intense pain. He sees his father wielding a sword and killing his enemies. He sees him holding The Large Stone with a hand, and battling with the other.  

 

Raucous sheering reverberates across the arena, and Sanji is soon brought to the area of the benches especially for elected officials only.  “Ease him down.” His uncle tells his two servants who bring his nephew, who still can’t walk without aid.  
  
As they watch the games, Sanji requests of his uncle to tell him more about his father. Josquin does. He tells him his father was a great warrior, one to be proud of. His nephew mocks his talk by bringing up the fact that the Large Stone, the pride of their empire, was lost because of his father, which his uncle denies, saying that nobody knows what came of the stone, but if his brother died protecting it, then that means he died an honorable death. 

“And now” –a man’s announcement brings the sheering to a halt, making even Sanji and his uncle become silent, not wishing to debate what really happened to Commander Judge and The Large Stone– “a fight to the death!” 

The sheering arise again, men, women and children looking down at the field with zealous eyes.  A wooden door is pulled up by a rope, and a hulking, large masked man walks out, a sword in his hand. He is built like a warrior and his good posture suggests that he’s been around many opponents, that he isn’t scared. Another door slides up, and a tall, muscled man walks out, peering up at the audience with a scowl. He is tanned, wearing only pants, and he has tattoos across the side of his neck. He’s got green eyes and short black hair.  A tanned is a rarity in these lands, so the audience’s shouts fall to mumbled whispers for a moment. Sanji is still a little feverish, his pasty face hasn’t gained much color even now, but he’d like to watch a fight with those two who look equally strong.  

The tanned man frowns even more when the spectators become rowdier, urging them to fight already, so he drops his sword to the mud and puffs out his chest. The warrior gives him a wallop to his temple, and another until he teeters and falls. He stands up again, and the warrior gestures at the discarded sword, but the tanned man only stares on, aggravating the warrior who gives him a punch to his nose. 

Sanji watches with awe the display of a man with no purpose to fight, of a man who has no reason to fight. He sees himself. He’s always dreamed of becoming a soldier and then embarking into the world to look for his father, and now he was discharged from duty because of his wounded leg. He no longer has any hopes, no reason to keep him fighting. So when the warrior stands atop the tanned man, who's finally fallen after taking so many hits, he aims his sword to his chest, he slowly stands up.

He hears the others voting for a death blow, but he down votes that by screaming, with all the strength that he has left ‘life’. He says it over and over, and he doesn’t miss on the way the tanned man looks at him with unbelieving eyes.  “Life!” Sanji yells, and his voice trembles. Looking at the others, he says “Life, you fools! Life!” 

In a heartbeat, he manages to change the shouted ‘death’ to ‘life’, taking away the warrior’s right to finish off the tanned man. 

Sanji, out of breath, sweaty and hot, he drops down, his eyes on the tanned man who’s beholding him with the same disbelieving look.

 

 

With his wound not healing still, Sanji sits at the edge of the bed and calls out his uncle’s servant to aid him, but the one who walks in through the door is his uncle accompanied by someone else. Sanji can’t see much of him with his eyes being shaded in sunlight.

“I’ve decided my servant is too old to serve two masters,” he says after clasping his hands behind his back, “I’ve bought you your own body slave, Sanji.”

The stranger behind walks up to the fore, showing his tall, firm form and sun-kissed skin, his short black hair and his emerald green eyes that glint under the brilliance of the golden rays.

Infuriated at not having been consulted about it, Sanji lifts up using his crane and fumes at his uncle about it. To which his uncle shrugs, ‘his name’s Zoro’, he adds before leaving the chamber altogether.

Cheeks flushed with the fever, Sanji glares at the taller man like he is the reason for his constant, crippling pain, and huffs “I have no use for you.”

The other retorts with his surprisingly deep, calm voice, “I had no wish to be bought.”

Smirking wanly, Sanji counters, “You should have run, my uncle wouldn’t stop you.”

“You saved my life.” Zoro simply says. “I have a debt to honor that.”

Taken aback, Sanji contorts his brows, “Against your wish?”

“No man should have to beg for his life.”

“You didn’t, I did.” Sanji sighs wearily, “on your behalf, and I meant nothing by it.”

There’s a shuffle in the silent room, as Zoro takes out his dagger and points it at Sanji whose eyes never steer away from the carved piece of metal with a little fear for his life.  “I’m the son of the mogul who never break their word,” Zoro says, but just as the proud words are uttered, his fingers let go of the dagger that clatters to the floor. “My father's dagger is my bond. I hate everything you stand for. Everything you are. But you saved me, and for that I must serve you.” He slowly bows his head in submission to his new master.

Sanji beholds him through his fogged vision, his blood boiling in his veins.

 

Around dusk, a doctor looks over Sanji’s wound, inspecting the redness around it and soon begins a rant about inefficient fort surgeons, and about how Sanji must be in a lot of pain which makes Zoro, who is standing by the window and waiting for orders, it makes him look up with a bit of curiosity and slight genuine concern.

As the uncle leaves to get himself a drink of wine for the surgery that will unfold later, followed by the surgeon, Zoro remains in the room, his eyes on Sanji, who is lying in his bed, covered in thick sheen of sweat.

“Wine,” he orders.

Zoro obliges, turning to fill the mug and then soon returning to Sanji’s bed, handing it to him. But since the man is lying down, the wine spills through his nostrils and he starts coughing and choking, which warrants a brow arch from Zoro.

Sanji clears his throat and hands the mug back to Zoro, “You pitying me?” he says, groggily.

“Never.” Zoro deadpans.

“Then why do you look at me like that?”

“The surgeon said you must be in constant pain,” Zoro starts, “I haven’t seen you complain.”

Sanji twists so he can sit up, and Zoro is soon at his side, tucking the hard pillow behind his head which, although it is what he should be doing as a servant, Sanji doesn’t entertain it as he pushes the man off him, telling him he is in no need for anyone’s help. Zoro steps rearward, and then walks up to the window, only standing there.

 

As Zoro tightens the straps on the surgery cot, the doctor lays out his knives on a nearby table and the uncle steps up to Sanji, the former commander sits in tranquility, a diamond in hand as he prays to his God, deep lines of devotion etched across his face. He is then prompted to lying back down, to prepare for the surgery.

“Ready?” the surgeon asks.

“Ready.” Sanji replies, and he doesn’t understand why, but his eyes search around, landing on Zoro’s. Hating to be seen at his weakest, he orders his slave to go. “You can go.”

As Zoro attempts to follow on, the surgeon stops him.

“I’m going to need the slave to hold you down.”

Sanji ignores the horrors of that statement and looks up at his uncle, “Can’t my uncle do it?”

His uncle perks up, surprised, “me?” he scoffs, “no, I’ve grown to hate the sight of blood. Especially the blood of someone I’ve grown fond of.” Tapping at his niece’s chest now, he says, “Stay strong.”

Sanji lays his head back as his uncle vacates the room, but the surgeon doesn’t give him the reprieve he so much needs as he orders the slave to hold Sanji down. After a moment where the slave and his master only picture the odds that could follow that, Zoro finally plasters his palms on both of Sanji”s shoulders, and pins him.

“Put your weight on him, slave” –Zoro hooks his entire arms on Sanji’s chest – “harder” –Zoro places a hand on Sanji’s forehead, which only brings their faces together, and he presses against him while Sanji only stares silently– “take a deep breath, when I say, ‘now’, take it out.”

Sanji nods vaguely to the surgeon’s advice, his eyes on his slave’s.

Zoro’s green eyes look furious, like there’s so much anger in him that would erupt someday if kept unattended to, and it momentarily takes Sanji’s mind off what the surgeon is planning to do to his leg.

“Now!”

Zoro’s pressure on him becomes even heavier as Sanji starts to squirm, feeling the tip of the knife digging into his already abused wound; he tries with all his might to stifle his screams as flashes of memories from the past pass by like a play, and the last thing his mind registers before falling into the darkness is Zoro’s green, fury-charged eyes…

 

His eyes flutter a bit before finally opening to his surroundings; his lips feel too dry and they smack when he attempts to speak. He feels Zoro by his bedside, perking up at his small noises before lifting up. Zoro brings a mug of medicine, hooks his hand behind Sanji’s head and lifts it up to help him drink. He lays it back gently when Sanji is full.

“D-did I shame myself?” The ailed demands, wearily.

Zoro, standing atop him, shakes his head.

Whatever Zoro is trying to hide so Sanji’s pride doesn’t take a blow will remain a secret, and Sanji is grateful, “Thank you…”

Zoro leaves when he feels Sanji drifting back to sleep.

 

 

 

 

Click-clacking of horses running in the woods echo, thinned out by the squalls of the master and his slave, who are riding their horses through the forest with their spears drawn out, chasing after wild boars.

Sanji’s been feeling a lot better after the surgery, and the only reason why he’s out here hunting, is because earlier this morning when he woke up, Zoro was standing at his door, bathing in sun rays that refined his muscular body and his warrior form. Sanji felt like his skills were getting rusty and his body was losing its firmness.

“There he is!” Sanji locates the pray and gushes about it, as the boar keeps dodging them. “Spear!” he asks of his slave who tosses him the weapon with the accuracy of a skilled warrior.

Zoro can keep up with him in a way that makes Sanji never fret about missing the animal; he has quick reflexes, and his senses are very agile and his ability to carry heavy arms has proved to be quite the fortunate.

Hunting has truly never been this fun.

 

 

At a river bank, Zoro sits squatted, skinning the animal which they finally managed to land a deadly blow on.

Sanji, sitting on the dry side of the grass, and watching from afar, takes in the skillful hands of his slave as they tear the skin off the boar’s flesh, or how Zoro inserts his hands into the animal’s middle and empties its guts.

Zoro lifts up, rolls her shoulder and cracks his neck, before making his way to the way to wash up.

Irked, and a little fascinated, Sanji watches how Zoro removes his tunic, revealing protruding abs and deep scars, he watches all the twitches of his slave’s joints and his tongue snakes out, skidding over his lips.

 


End file.
